


Talk Is Cheap

by markipwiwer



Series: Tumblr Requests [80]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Family, Fluff, Sign Language, big brother anti, i don’t specify WHICH sign language bc bsl was suggested but idk, little brother robbie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 12:07:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16743691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/markipwiwer/pseuds/markipwiwer
Summary: “I know that requests are closed but I've literally had this idea forever but I just wanted to put it in your idea queue if it strikes your fancy! been wanting to commission you to write this for months but just haven't had the money in the old bank account :(  Anyway, won't type the whole thing out again bc I'm pretty I already sent it to you in a post somewhere, but it's the one about anti's throat and how he got a pecs book (that he later gave to robbie) and learned bsl and then taught Jameson”- frankkylou





	Talk Is Cheap

Henrik had tried on countless occasions to restore Antis neck.

The neck wound was always open, and it oozed a little when he was stressed. If he got too shouty, it hurt. It didn’t make sense, medically speaking. It had been created with some strange power that Anti didn’t even understand entirely, and so Henriks hand were tied in trying to heal him.

“It’s - it’s okay, Doc, I’ll deal with it. It’s fine.”

Antis voice was corse and strained. He sat on the edge of the bed in Henriks office, his feet dangling off the ground.

“You shouldn’t have to deal with it, Anti. But you cannot drink tea forever. You’re in pain, I think we should look into alternative methods of communication so that you may give your voice a rest.”

Anti furrowed his eyebrows. Not being able to speak was going to be debilitating, wasn’t it?

“I don’t wanna write on a fuckin’ chalkboard to my boyfriends.”

Henrik shook his head.

“No no, nothing like that. I was more thinking along the lines of... well, you could, perhaps, take up signing?”

Henrik was clearly a little nervous about the suggestion. Anti didn’t like being told what to do in the first place, and he was particularly sensitive to the subject of pain management. Anti was a very stubborn being and he wanted to tough everything out, especially if it meant not having to learn something new and complicated.

“I thought this was about my throat. I’m not deaf.”

“Well, yes, but people who are unable to speak use sign language as a means of communication as well. I’d learn alongside you, of course, and I’m sure Wilford and Dark would be on board if it meant you weren’t suffering all the time.”

As much as Anti hated other people talking about his partners with any authority, Schneeplestein did have a point. If they found out he was hurting himself just so he could keep talking when there was another option available, they’d be quite worried.

Anti sat in contemplation for a short while, before Henrik stood up and walked over to his desk, rummaging through one of the lower drawers. He pulled out a book, with large print and pictures. It would have almost looked like a children’s book if it weren’t so medical.

“Look, I won’t ask you to commit to anything. But if you could just flip through this, perhaps familiarise yourself with some of its content, you wouldn’t have to be so... restrained in your communicative abilities.”

Anti took the book and opened it up. The first couple of pages were hand signs alongside the alphabet. Then greetings, short every day phrases, and so on.

“Thanks Doc. I’ll, uh, look into it.”

Anti left the room, trying to pick his pride up off the floor as he realised he might actually have to listen to the doctor for once. Nazi bastard.

-

Jamison was a brand new Ego who came with his own chalk board. A white board, arguably more modern, didn’t seem to fit his aesthetic very well. His handwriting was pristine and he was quick too, so no one had to wait too long to know what he had to say. It did make conversations at dinner difficult though, and eventually most of the Egos picked up on a lot of his body language and expressions anyway.

Still, though, Anti had to wonder why he didn’t sign at all.

So, with very little tact, Anti eventually approached the mute man about it.

Jameson was in the living room, reading a book and drinking tea, the usual really, when Anti walked in and plopped himself down next to him. Jameson flinched slightly, looking up from his book and giving a big smile once he got past the strangely threatening aura that Anti always gave off.

“Hey, Jamie... why don’t ye ever use sign language?”

Jameson tilted his head slightly, questioning. The question had come out of nowhere, and there were many answers. He pulled his chalk board seemingly out of nowhere, in a similar way to how Wilford often summoned things, and began writing.

Anti looked over his shoulder to read as he went.

‘Don’t know how. Even if I learned, no one would understand.’

“Ye never even learned? That’s weird. I mean, I know sign, so I’d understand ye...”

Anti scratches his head somewhat awkwardly, since opening himself up like this wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world.

Jameson erased his words and started writing again.

‘Why do you know sign?’

“Uh, the Nazi taught me. Well, kinda. He made me learn, cause, uh...”

Anti struggled to actually spit it out without losing what threatening aura he had with the Ego, and he did enjoy being able to loom over people to a certain extent. But the way Jameson just sat there, listening so intently, and he nodded his head a little to encourage Anti to go on... 

“Sometimes my voice gets kinda fucky. Cause’ of my throat. Neck, y’know. It’s all messed up. So Schneep wanted me to learn how to shut up and figure out some other way of talkin’. He learned a bit with me but not all the phrases and the grammar and stuff. He just kinda spelled stuff, mostly. It’s cool though. And faster than writin’, probably.”

Anti gestured to the chalk board, and at first Jameson held onto it a little tighter, almost defending it. But then, he looked down at it, and nodded slowly. He began to write again.

‘It can get tedious. I get wrist cramps a lot.’

“Dude, seriously, just take up signin’ with me. I’ll teach ye, and then I’ll actually have someone to talk to. Everyone wins and all that.”

At this point, despite his embarrassment, it seemed illogical for the two of them to not do this. Anti figured Jameson was probably the last person to judge him, and he was still scary enough even when he was selectively mute, right? Surely, the fact that Jameson was so wholesome all the time had little to do with being, well, full time mute?

-

Robbie shambled into the kitchen one day, mumbling about as always, while Anti sat on a chair with his feet up on the table, filing his claws to a nice point.

Before Anti could really register the zombies presence, Robbie let out a strange kind of shriek. It was loud and pained and Anti whipped his head around, immediately rushing out of his chair and accidentally glitching to Robbie. He pulled the zombies hand away from the coffee pot that he’d seemingly grabbed, open palmed and curiously enthusiastic.

“Dude, what did ye do that for?!”

Anti was shouting but that was mostly because he was worried. Robbie was like... his kid brother, and just about the only one Anti would really open up around, be sensitive to. He never scared Robbie. Even in the beginning, Robbie was never scared of Anti. He thought the glitches were funny.

Robbie, however, in this state was unable to answer Anti. He was in shock and pain and he kept holding his hand, trying to pull it away when Anti turned on the cold water and held Robbie’s hand under the faucet.

Robbie, poor thing, could only make sad grunts, even when Anti dubbed circles into his back and sang him some strange ancient lullaby that would have made anyone else’s ears fall off. Robbie just lay his head on Antis chest as they stood together in the kitchen, and stopped trying to pull back, realising the relief that came with the cold water.

“That’s it, deartháir beag, it’s all well now, it’s gonna be fine...”

As Robbie clenched and unclenched his hand again, struggling to get any real words out, Anti had something of an original thought.

-

“Okay, ye know how to spell, right? Schneep taught ye, didn’t he?”

Anti spoke reasonably slowly, as he and Robbie stood together in the living room. Robbie nodded slowly in response.

Anti brought out a book. It was worn, very loved, but legible. And he handed it to Robbie, guiding him to the couch to sit down so they could look through it together.

“Look, these... shapes ye can make with yer hands? Those are the letters of the alphabet. And ye can spell with those. But it’s not just that, ye have shapes that mean whole words too! And then I’ll be able to understand ye, and we can talk all the time.”

At first, Anti was worried that Robbie wasn’t entirely following. It was a LOT of information at once.

But Anti saw Robbie’s hand start to move, spelling out the alphabet and checkin each hand shape against the one on the page. It took him a few minutes to get through the 26 letters, but he definitely got there, and he looked very proud of himself once he’d finished. Anti even gave him a round of applause, his heart filling with a foreign sense of something. Like pride, but nicer.

Robbie studied the book again for a few moments before beginning to spell again, and Anti thought he was starting the alphabet but, not quite. He watched carefully as Robbie’s eyes darted across the page to spell words.

‘A-N-T-I-L-O-V-E’

Anti wrapped his arms around the zombie, glitching slightly.

“Love you too, ye weirdo.”

**Author's Note:**

> Have you got an idea or a request for a fic? Come shoot me a message at markipwiwer.tumblr.com!
> 
> If you like what I do, please consider supporting me at www.ko-fi.com/markipwiwer!


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